People. Places. Faces. Phases.~ @Life Scenes.

People fail to fascinate me. They're so damn predictable with their set manipulations, loves, dislikes...et al. It's boring, to say the least. Why can't people dare to do something out of the ordinary? No, I don't mean the kind that would make them jump off cliffs for adrenal rush, but just something un-ordinary, you know?

Not extraordinary, just plain un-ordinary. I'd always figured that being clones of one another all the fucking time could get tiring, mundane and just plain dull. Not to mention, demeaning. People are too easy to figure out now. 

I could kill for someone to come and sweep me off my feet with intrigue.

Anyone!

Places, for me, are memories. They're like scents. I associate them with people. Yes, that same species that fail to fascinate me, no matter how much of a chance I give them. I have never been a traveler; not even an armchair traveler. I don't go out of my way to explore locales or plan a trip to the hills with nothing but a backpack. My holidays are, preferably, more luxurious than that. More indulgent. Or the beach. Or anywhere not as physically straining.

A little sleep, lots of bathing, some drinks, a few cigarettes, a couple of joints, a night of crazy dancing, straight hair, beautiful clothes...

I need a vacation!

Faces, I believed, faded out the soonest from memory. I believed that for the longest time. It was hard to reconstruct someone's face in the head, if there hadn't been an interaction for a while. But that was back in day; the good old days. However, today is the age of the Facebook. Even if you want to forget some damn faces, it's too networked to ignore completely Anyway, faces shouldn't ever only be about appearances. It should tell stories; and not your appointments to a plastic surgeon.

Beauty is A virtue, alright. But should it be The virtue? 

If only we lived in a world of shoulds.

Real Life Is Boring.

It should have been a sitcom. It sort of is; only here everyone isn't witty and funny and everyone isn't constantly getting laid. Ah! Getting laid is important. I just don't want to reach that verge of wanting to stick (any)things up myself. Baaaah. Back to sitcoms; real life is like sitcoms. Whatever we do is like a scene from our 800season long show, called 'Life', is it not? 

I'm just rambling now..

Here I am, at 3:08am in the morning, in need of a change, some colour, happiness, June;

My phases.

At Life Scenes.

It's almost too late to sleep now. Neverthess, shall go try.

Night.

Just a thought.

Yours truly has been studying. Gasp all you want, it's true!
Studying and day dreaming about what life-after-University-exams would be. Siiigggghhhhh.

Anyway, I was just thinking, if I were to randomly stop posting on my blog, would anyone stop to consider that I might be dead? For real?
Like, how would anybody who reads my blog find out about my death?

Just A Thought.

“Everybody knows how to raise children, except the people who have them.”

Is it just me or is the 'parent-child' relationship sliiiggghhhtttlllyy overrated?

I'm not the least bit ungrateful for whatever they have done for me.
And I thank my stars each day for the mother I have.
But aren't most of these things their duties?

I am not feeling a wee bit cynical right now, no.
All I am saying is that parents tend get over each other over time;
and then subsequently, they get over their kids too. We all grow up, don't we?
Also, it is a little more than little hard to stay with the parents once you're over 15.
Or 12.

Bah.

Need A Prayer?

Someone once told me that my life's greatest tragedy would be each time I am elated beyond belief, but being an atheist, I would have no one to thank.

Bullcrap, I said!

However, it is close to a great tragedy when in all helplessness you seek a prayer but you don't believe in it enough for it to come true.

All my life I have counted on the Universe, if anything, to make things right for me; never a 'god'. We have way too many to choose from, anyway. It's the complexities that make it petty, I think.

The sought prayer is for someone I would kill to forget forever, but won't be able to.

It's a little strange how Facebook has become the link between lives; even those lives that were tangled together, to say the least, only a while back.

"Get well soon"; "Prayers for your speedy recovery"; "Heyy! Snap outta it, bro! We got partying to do! Get better now!!"....

I wasn't worried a tiny bit. I was trying not to be.

It sucks when you call him and his mother answers.

It sucks when the mother has always been fond of you and hence thinks it's okay to cry to you.

It sucks when she says, "Don't you know, Beta? It happened on the 15th..."

No! I don't know! How am I supposed to? We don't talk every hour of every day, anymore!

It sucks when you realize that you hardly have any common threads who'd have informed you any earlier.

It sucks when she tells you that he got hit by a car and it looks bad.

It sucks when you have this little voice inside of you telling you that he may have done this on purpose.

Whatever times I had met him in the last three month, he had been stressing over the girlfriend. Yes, even to the extent of wanting to kill himself.

If I know him at all, I know he's capable.

This is not the best early-morning-news I could have got.

I sit here, with my lack of faith firmly shaken, seeking a prayer.

The 'god' hasn't ever really listened to anything I have had to say... 

So ya. That sucks too.

Get Well Soon, You :'(

Live.

Strawberry Fields.

.... Annnnnd is back :D

Anyone missed me?

No? NO? NOO??

Ok :|

I've been at peace for a while now.

I'm not cynical about my existence unnecessarily anymore. It's good, my existence. Everything is sort of falling into place, almost automatically. Here, 'everything' really means 'everything emotionally'. There are no hang ups for now and that makes me very happy.

I am not a patron of clubbing nights anymore. It's boring, the charade. However, I do want to dress up and dance. Just not grind with strange men. Not even dress up, really. Just Dance!

I am not bothered by most people now. I don't pull my hair out each time anything minutely human ticks me off. I ignore. They say ignorance is bliss. I am in no mood to argue that.

All this and so much more;

I am not bound by nothingness.

I am free.

What makes a person dubious?

I think it's a machinery. A machinery that validates the fact that what you see in people is a mixture of what you want to see in them and what they want to show to you. That, I think, is the root of all doubts.

Completely unrelated, I know. Nevertheless.

All the things I had been running away from have caught up with me. 

So now, I am free! I want to run around in my hot pants shouting that!

If only it wasn't this fuckin' hot...

"Let me take you down, 'cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields.

Nothing is real and nothing to get hung about.
Strawberry Fields forever."

Stochastic.

I am majorly disoriented, of late. 

'Majorly' is not a real English word. It's slang for 'extremely'. 

Even 'mentality' isn't a real English word. It's like I have been sold a lie.

It sucks to be sold lies.

It sucks, even more, to be told lies.

Lies have never really been my 'thing'. 

It becomes too much to remember; too much of a responsibility.

Responsibility has never been my 'thing'.

It's a funny word, 'thing'. It's convenient, for starters.
Also, it puts across your point to the disinterested.
It's used randomly without cause or center.

The central alignment?

I think it's my quest to find the center. In life, generally.

This French philosopher dude named Derrida had interesting things to say regarding the center.

He said to define the center, one must define what is not-the-center. 

It works on the concept of the 'other' being responsible for identification and definition of an individual. 

Like, what is Black?

That, which is not white.

White is intimidating for me. It's too pure for my liking. Too fucking spotless.

It doesn't have stories to tell. 

It doesn't seem like it has stories to tell;

that's what is intimidating. The 'seeming' part.

It's a bloody appearance.

Appearance, we're all obsessed with.

I know I am. 

And I'm not even talking about the physical one. I'm more on the lines of the damn 'masks'.

The masks we wear are probably lots of fun.

They should be.

Otherwise, I see no reason for us all to be wearing them all the time.

It's all about the masquerade balls.

'Balls' are demeaning. No?

Men may jolly well debate about the presence or absence of 'balls of steel';

 but us women?

'Guts', 'Courage'... far more gender neutral.

Guts over Balls, any day.

Days pass me by like a blink of the eye.

It's got to be something to be this unproductive for days together.

'Together Forever'-- I used to love the super corny phrase.
And then life happened.
What is it about Utopian ideas of love that fade away?
Sooner or Later?
'Later' hasn't ever been my sign off.
It's way too impersonal. And abrupt.
I don't think it's warm enough; leaves an awkward taste.
Speaking of taste, I absolutely need good food. N-E-E-D.
I have been the eat-out/take-away girl for as long as I can remember.
The ever-so-popular 'ghar ka khaanaa' isn't my favourite cuisine.
At least not for some years to come.
You know what rhymes with 'come'? Rum.
It's been a while I had rum.  Exactly a week today.
Out of all of my 'substances', I like the flavour of rum the most.
Apart from its quality of getting me high.
I got high in the auto today morning.
The smell of weed makes auto drivers suspicious-looking.
Looking at people around is like a drug in itself.
It gets you high sometimes.
And sometimes, like now, it gets you down.
My lethargic, pathetic, melancholy self seems to have gotten the better of me.
Me? I am majorly disoriented, of late.

'Majorly' is not a real English word. It's slang for 'extremely'. 

Even 'mentality' isn't a real English word. It's like I have been sold a lie.

It sucks to be sold lies.

It sucks, even more, to be told lies.

Lies have never really been my 'thing'. 

It becomes too much to remember; too much of a responsibility.

Responsibility has nev...

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Wake Up !

Sundays SUCK! If I had my way, I would just scrap it off the calender. They're a wastage of my existence. I get up late, which is unlike me. I putt off my bath till as late as I can, which is also unlike me. I plan the things I need to do and never succeed.

Bah! A Fucking Useless Day.

Not to forget how I find unusual levels of love for the television set. Since morning I have watched : 

1) Friends

2) Dexte

3) Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham

4) Sholay

5) MTV (obviously!)

Now watching : Wake Up Sid.

I love that movie. It's almost aspirational. I would kill to have a pad in Mumbai a la Konkana Sen (in the movie).

I have assignments pending, unmet commitments, University finals in exactly a month's time. 

And what am I doing?

Sitting in front of the damn TV set, eating cheese-burst pizza, day dreaming about Mumbai and procrastinating anything and everything that's work.

D-o-o-m-s-d-a-y.
I blame Sundays for my miseries.
Bitches, them all!